


Familiar

by JHolland



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Feels, Happy Ending, M/M, Oneshot, Pre GoF/Post OoTP, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 18:01:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10599267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JHolland/pseuds/JHolland
Summary: After thirteen years apart, Remus Lupin is understandably anxious about seeing his old lover once again. So when he turns up on Sirius Black's doorstep with all of his things, he really isn't sure which way their reunion is going to go.





	

**Author's Note:**

> We all know at the end of GoF that Sirius was told to 'lie low at Lupin's' ;) But as OoTP opens we find the whole gang at Grimmauld Place. So we really can't be sure how much lying low happened. Anyhow, we're just going to skip right over that little detail and pretend it never happened and that it's the week before the whole crew descend on the Black's family home. Sirius is there all alone and Remus is on his way over, having not seen him all year after he decided hiding in a cave was the best plan of action. (WTF, Sirius.) This is my imagining of how that first initial reunion went, and all the feels involved!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

The house was precisely as Remus had imagined it all these years; grey and nondescript from the outside just like those to either side of it. Its windows were dark and held no sign of life and faded curtains hung in every window, closed tightly against the bright summer sun. The whole house had an unsurprising air of abandonment about it. A snarl of brambles hung in a tangle over the wrought iron fence that separated the old house from the quiet road beyond. They encroached upon the mossy path so much so that they snagged at Remus’s already worn cloak as he squeezed past.

Shouldering the patched-up duffle bag that held all his worldly possessions, Remus raised an apprehensive fist to knock lightly on the peeling black-painted door. It was a few moments before he heard the faint sound of muffled shouting from somewhere within. His stomach flipped nervously and he began to sweat in the summer heat where he stood on top of the steps that led up to the door. Within seconds, the shouting was replaced by the sound of heavy footfalls and the door was swung open after a moment’s pause.

The man that stood on the threshold was in much better shape than Remus had last seen him, barely alive and looking much, much older than his thirty-four years. His eyes had been wild and sunken into their bruised sockets, and his hair had grown limp had hung in a greasy tangle almost to his elbows. Now his handsome face was full and bright, his hair soft and neatly cut where it fell in waves to his strong jawbone. The two men looked at each other for the space of a second, grey eyes taking in amber. Then, Sirius Black flashed Remus the crooked grin he remembered so well and pulling him into a rough hug.

Remus grunted in surprise but didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around the other man in return. The embrace was so familiar in its strength and comfort that Remus had to swallow back the lump that rose in his throat. “You’re looking better, Sirius.”

“Unbelievable what a few good meals will do, eh? Kreacher’s been putting the old stove to good use. It’s good to see you, Remus,” despite the years, Sirius’s voice was still the same warm rumble, quick to laugh and tease, with mischief brewing just beneath the surface. “Come in, come in. Sorry about the mess. You know I’ve never been one for domestic spells.”

“No, that you haven't,” Remus chortled as he closed the heavy door behind him. He followed Sirius down the narrow hallway. Its dusty carpet and torn wallpaper were poorly illuminated by the soot-blackened gas lamps that lined it. To his right, a sharply ascending set of dark-wood stairs rose up and disappeared into the gloom above, obscenely decorated by a row of mounted house-elf heads.

In all their years of friendship, and the years in between, Remus had never set foot in Sirius’s old home. Perhaps if he had he might have understood is friend’s childhood a little better. Sirius had run away just before their sixth year and as far as Remus knew, this was the first time he had been back since.

They came upon another set of stairs tucked below the first, that descended down into another gloomy hallway filled with flickering dim lights. This one was considerably darker than the one above and Remus was relieved when Sirius led him into the kitchen at the end of it. Although it was dark too, (Remus was getting the impression that gothic décor and gloomy colours were the Black’s preference), it at least had a few high-set windows that let in a little of the bright light from outside.

“Tea?” Sirius offered, gesturing stiffly to the kettle that was already whistling on the stove top. Now that he was seated, Remus had a chance to look at man before him. The broad shoulders were the same shape as he remembered, only now slightly fuller. The hair was still the same shiny raven hue, untouched by grey. His face was much the same as the one Remus remembered every night before he drifted off to sleep, though he could see that in some places the long years since he had last seen it had taken their toll. Still, Sirius had that aristocratic beauty about him, in his high cheekbones and slanting eyebrows. His lips were the same shape, though now they were drawn in thought and – Remus guessed – uncertainty. It was an odd feeling, looking at someone so dear to Remus, after so many years and finding them so familiar and at the same time, entirely different too.

“Yes please, tea would be great,” Remus mumbled, stuffing his bag beneath the table with shaking hands. His hesitance suddenly returning now that neither of them were distracted. Sirius busied himself with finding a pair of chipped mugs in the back of one of the cupboards and set about pouring them each tea, but Remus caught the darting glances in his direction every so often.

When Sirius had settled into the seat opposite him, both men looked at each other awkwardly for a heartbeat before Sirius cleared his throat. “I just assumed you still take two sugars. Sorry, I probably should have asked.”

“This is all a bit surreal,” Remus confessed. Sirius had never been one to begin particularly sensitive conversations, he remembered now with no short amount of exasperation. “I suppose it’ll all take some getting used to. When do the others get here?”

“Next week,” Sirius replied, grey eyes never leaving his own. Remus folded his hands in his lap to stop them from shaking.

With an errant hand, Sirius sent his own mug flying across the table, tea splashing everywhere followed by the sound of shattering china. “Shit! Sorry!”with a flick of Remus’s wand the mess disappeared and the broken shards re-assembled themselves on the worn table between the two men. “Thanks. Sorry, I’m a bit jittery.” Sirius ran a hand through his hair the way he always used to when he got nervous. It was a little idiosyncrasy that Remus had forgotten about, remembered only now, and it made his lips tweak with sadness. “I’ll admit, I thought a lot about what I'd say to you today but now that you're here I just – I don't really know. This is harder than I thought it was going to be.”

He’d seen Sirius, just once the year before, but it had been brief and the weight of the many long years that came before it could be felt heavily in the space between them now.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said tremulously, hating how weak he sounded. “I should have known-”

“Please don't, Remus,” Sirius voice was rough edged with emotion and his eyes were dark with the same pleading in his voice. “I don't know if I want to hear all of this.”

“I need to say it,” Remus insisted, setting his jaw firmly and swallowing back the lump that tore up his throat. “I lost everything I had that night, Sirius. I woke up the next morning wondering why you hadn't come home, only to be told that James and Lily and Peter were dead, along with a dozen other people and that you were the one that had done it?”

Remus’s eyes stung with the beginnings of tears and he cursed himself for still being so affected, so many years later. This past year had been the hardest of all, having all he’d been forced to believe for more than a decade turned on it's head. The guilt...

“That was the worst day of my life. I didn't believe it at first. I knew you could never have done it, I told everyone who would listen that you'd have died rather than betray James and Lily.” Remus gasped around a watery sob and grabbed for the other man’s shaking hand across the table before he continued, squeezing it tight. “But then they found Peter’s finger, and the ministry were so sure. Not even a trial, that's how certain they were. It was so hard to wrap my head around. It just wasn't the boy I knew.” He couldn't stifle the sobs any more, or hold back the tears that had been asking to fall for years now. “And after a long time, I did believe it. I started doubting everything. Every word you'd said to me, to them.”

“Please Remus,” Sirius croaked. He, too was crying now, tears that did little to help the anguish he felt. “I don't need to hear this.”

“I’m so - so sorry Sirius. I should have known! I should have b-believed you!”

“Stop,” Sirius growled, eyes flashing a warning as he scrubbed his cheeks roughly folded Remus’s smaller hand into both of his own. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have!” Remus snarled. “I should never have doubted youRemus spat. You’d never have abandoned me if I'd been the one he set up. You were everything to me. I should have known! You must hate me.”

“REMUS, STOP IT!” Sirius bellowed, rising to his feet. He stood there breathing heavily for a silent moment and staring at Remus, wild-eyed before coming round to sit back down beside him. It was a very convincing lie. You know, I've had a little bit of time to think about everything.” At this, another of those crooked grins. “It doesn't matter what you thought, or who you believed. It wouldn't have changed anything. I would still have spent all those years in Azkaban. Lily and James would still be dead.”

“Sirius-”

“You never abandoned me, Remus,” Sirius said angrily. “They locked me up. There wasn't much you could have done to stop it. I hate a lot of people for what happened, but I could never hate you, Remus.”

He reached across and titled Remus’s chin up with a firm hand, using a calloused thumb to wipe away the tears that streaked down his cheeks. “After what happened last year, you disappeared. I tried writing but my letters just kept coming back.”

“I’m sorry about all that,” Sirius said earnestly, still holding Remus’s eyes with his own. His fingers were making lazy, comforting circles on Remus’s palm, just like they used to when they were still at school on the mornings after the full moon. “I thought it best if I didn't face anyone until I was a bit more er – myself, again.”

Remus nodded, unsure of what to say again until the other man pulled him into another embrace, strong arms folding him in like they had so many times before. Remus smiled hesitantly into Sirius’s chest. “It’s good to see you again, too, Sirius.”

“I would bloody well like to think so!” Sirius said indignantly into his ear. “Thirteen years without this gorgeous face to look at every day must have been tough. I'm not sure which of us had it worse.”

“Definitely me, I think. That face isn't an easily forgettable one, even if you are an old man now,” Remus teased, his voice was still hoarse from crying but he couldn't help but grin. The years they'd been apart didn't seem so long when Sirius smiled at him that way. The teenage trouble-maker of their glory days still looked out at him through eyes that were like the edge of a storm.

“I'm still as handsome as ever, just a bit more refined now. You’re an old man too, Professor Lupin,” Sirius jibed. “If anyone had told me the boy I fancied would end up a teacher I'd have punched them.”

“It's not really that much of a stretch if you think about it,” Remus laughed.

“Did you grow up to be anything be anything else?”

“What do you mean,” Remus asked, puzzled. What more was there to grow up to be?

“I don't know, like married, maybe?” In spite of his light-hearted tone, Remus could sense the apprehensive undercurrent in his voice. “I don't mind if you are. I mean – I’m happy if you are. I wouldn't expect you to not be.”

“I’m not married, Sirius,” Remus said with a small, sad smile. “I haven't really been interested in anyone since…”

“Oh good, me either,” Sirius replied, and his relief was indeed obvious in the smile that split his face. “Married I mean. I was interested in a pretty charming dementor I met on the inside.”

“Well he and I are just going to have to have words, then. I hope you told him there was a fearsome werewolf from your past he might have to contend with.”

The rest of the day passed in much the same manner, and the two men were so preoccupied in their rush to reconnect that the sun had long since disappeared beneath the horizon before either of them even thought about going to bed. It was only when Remus stifled another yawn behind his fist that Sirius realised what time it was. “I think it's time we went to bed.” Remus nodded in agreement and slipped his hand out of the other man’s to grab his bag. Sirius watched him take his hand back and twisted his own together in embarrassment. “Oh – er – I didn't mean. Eh – I meant separate beds, that is.”

“Oh,” was all Remus could think of to reply, managing to sound pathetically crestfallen.

“Or not. Eh-” Sirius coughed awkwardly, his cheeks colouring. Remus fixed him with an amused look and a raised brow. “Um, unless you want to share. That is. It's up to you, really. I don't mind.”

***

Remus woke long before Sirius did, feeling warm and content and the safest he had in fourteen years. He lay there watching the other man breathing softly, transfixed by the sight; the face he knew so well was still young and carefree in sleep. Despite the early hour, the weak, grey light of early morning brightened the unfamiliar room and he looked around it in near-reverence. Gaudy motorcycle posters were plastered on the walls in the jaunty angles of teenage rebellion, and old books that hadn't been opened in years gathered dust on every surface that wasn't taken up by Quidditch paraphernalia.

He'd never been in this room before last night, but it was so profoundly Sirius that Remus couldn't help but feel a swell of love rise in his chest. A thumb grazing lazily over his collarbone brought his attention back to the man in bed beside him and he turned to find sleepy grey eyes searching his face bemusedly. “What are you smiling for?”

“I’ve just really missed you.”

“I missed you too, Remus.”

 


End file.
